I don’t even know if mine counts. I don’t know what qualifies as the worst case scenario. I know mine was very intimate and isolating. Both starting with an “I” for a reason. I never had any bad feelings for my husband, my child or friends and family. Just me. “I was not good enough to be a mom and he’ll be better off without me,” was something I repeated hundreds of times in my head. It hit me like a ton of bricks. PPD – Postpartum Depression.

Time line:

7/2/2012 – Had my son 7 weeks early.

7/17/2012 – Took him home.

8/15/2012 – Went in for a fever of 103 that wouldn’t break for a week and a                       half.

8/26/2012 – Was discharged.

8/27/2012 – PPD hits.

I remember lying in bed. Unable to say a thing. I couldn’t cry and I would just lay and look at my closet for hours. I could hear my husband dealing with a hungry, fussy baby and I was useless. I remember promising him that I wouldn’t be one of “those” women after I gave birth. “You don’t have to worry about me,” I said in birthing class.

8/28/2012 – I go back to work. My job is not the most ideal job to have with PPD. I would do a break on the radio and then cry in the bathroom. And repeat.

I knew I should get help.

9/4/2012 – My husband was leaving for work and I had my son for the rest of the day. Still unable to even say a word. The look of terror on his face said it all. He was so scared to say he thought something COULD happen. Who wants to accuse a mom of hurting their own child? I would never have done that. I thought I could lay him in the crib and just go to sleep in the garage. The darkest thoughts that you can’t shake are enough to make you want to stop them.

I got through the day.

9/5/2012 – My amazing OB/GYN got me in a.s.a.p. She said, “Welcome to the club. Here’s a script for something to help.” I read on the bottle that I might see results in 10-12 days. I know I didn’t have that long. By some miracle, I saw results in 3 days. I felt myself.

I smiled without it hurting.

I’m not saying that prescription drugs cure all. This is my story and everyone will heal and help themselves in different ways. But, what I am saying is that PPD is real. Depression is real. Even if it’s a bout of 2 weeks or a lifetime of hurting.

Welcome to the club